


Tiny Human

by Nehszriah



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Face the Raven? I think you mean Face the Nappy, Gen, Prompt Fic, and then tell me they don't want this then gtfo, approx. canon levels of touching, emergency fluff, if you can look me in the hairy eyeball after seeing them fawn over her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara babysit for Rigsy. Fluff ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Human

“Hello Tiny Human,” the Doctor beamed. He held the infant up, her bottom secure in the crook of his elbow and her chest against his shoulder, and bounced her happily. “I _still_ can’t believe that Local Knowledge made this. What is he? Fourteen?”

“Rigsy is twenty-two, for the record; it’s been a couple years since we met him,” Clara chuckled. “Lots of people are parents at twenty-two, and I think he’s going to be a splendid one.” She finished throwing Lucy’s nappy in the scented bin and held her hands up. “Gonna go wash and get her a bottle, in that order. You keep her calm until then.”

“You know, that Jen needs to be taken to the airport more often,” he replied, tickling Lucy under her chin. The girl simply stared at him, unsure what to make of the velvet-coated man with his sticky-uppy hair. She reached for the grey fluff and pet it, mesmerized by the softness.

Carefully, the Doctor pulled her chubby hand away and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Now, now—only Miss Clara gets to play with my hair. Hasn’t Local Knowledge taught you anything?” The baby babbled crossly at him and he scoffed. “I know he’s _your_ Dad, but _I_ can’t call him that. Twenty-three-hundred years old and you get a bit big for things like that.”

At that, the very sour Lucy gurgled and slammed her head into her caretaker’s shoulder. He tutted and tried gliding about the room, spinning about at random to simulate dancing; when that didn’t work, he began humming some Pink Floyd. Lucy was still decidedly unamused.

“Okay then, how about this,” the Doctor grinned. He lifted the baby at her sides, holding her horizontal above his head. Shaking her gently, he made sputtering engine noises spinning in place. Her frown still in-place, he brought her down into his elbow again and scowled. “Here I thought you were supposed to be the brilliant one.”

Lucy scrunched up her nose and pouted, highly unimpressed with the extraterrestrial’s efforts. It was then that Clara came back in and laughed. She took the baby and began to feed her the warmed bottle, a smirk still on her face. “Letting a tiny pudding brain get the best of you?”

“A _brilliant_ pudding brain,” he retorted. He stood behind Clara, looming over her so he could also see Lucy, and bugged his eyes at the child. She laid still in the arms of the one feeding her, staring judgmentally at the oldest one in the room. He then raised his eyebrows, crossed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue. This broke the girl, causing her to cough on her formula in an attempt to not drown in it. Clara burped her and shot the Doctor an icy look.

“Don’t kill the baby; Rigsy won’t be happy if you do.”

“I wasn’t trying to _kill her_ , Clara… why would I kill wee, sweet Lucy? We could travel together one day, if she plays her cards right.”

“Then sit down and start bonding,” she ordered. The Doctor sat in the rocker and Clara placed Lucy in his arms, giving him the bottle to feed her with. “Now you stay here and I better not come back to find that the two of you are fighting.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. He watched as she left the room and winced as he heard the TARDIS door slam. “Ohhh… this daft old man really messed up this time, don’t you think?” Lucy pushed her bottle out of her mouth and made a soft cooing sound, amused more than anything. “Hey, don’t you go saying things like that. One day, I want to bring you over a little playmate, and the two of you will be brilliant _together_ , and I need Miss Clara to do that.”

The Doctor burped Lucy and put her back in his arm, looking down at her with his sad, heavy-lidded eyes. “Being a dad is one of the best things in the universe, let me tell you. I’m glad Local Knowledge made you, because out of all the things he will ever do, making you will likely be one of the most rewarding.” He then let out a noise that barely constituted as a laugh. “I do think that if I do become a dad again, I would like Miss Clara to be the mam. I don’t really know how to tell her though because it’s scary—it’s always scary every time you want to make a child. What do you say, Tiny Human? How do I tell Miss Clara I want to be a parent with her?”

“How about _asking_ Miss Clara forthright?”

Turning his head, the Doctor saw that Clara was standing in the doorway, the clockwork squirrel in her hand. She set the squirrel on the dresser and crossed the room to kneel down at his side, placing one hand on his knee and the other on his shoulder.

“Clara…” he murmured, “I saw how your face lit up when you first saw Tiny Human. We can’t make a Tiny Human of our own, nor a Tiny Gallifreyan, but we can make a Tiny Us, and I’d willingly bring them aboard the TARDIS as a distraction.”

“I’d love to, you silly thing,” she replied. Clara kissed his cheek and brought her hand up from his knee to fruitlessly smooth out his hair. “In all of time and space, where would you like to start?”


End file.
